


Sex with a Ghost

by Anthropophobia



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bottom Alexis | Quackity, Desk Sex, Ghost Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Sex, Hate Sex, Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Mirror Sex, Name-Calling, Oneshot, Smut, Top Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthropophobia/pseuds/Anthropophobia
Summary: Quackity spent his time mocking the death of his former lover, Jschlatt, to the point where, if he were to open his mouth, anyone would tell him not to make another joke about his ex's death. But, he could never imagine waking up one morning, sitting in front of his mirror only to get rammed by a ram.orQuackity gets fucked by his ex, who just happens to be a ghost
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs (mentioned)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 300





	Sex with a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Here you go, you horny bastards. Have your scraps.  
> Also, I'm stalling on my other book because I'm not good a writing smut, but this is smut, so I guess I don't have an excuse now.

Quackity smiled, tracing his finger over the patterns that were carved into his desk, a sly smile on his face. Today is the 1st anniversary of Schlatt's death and Quackity was going to eat it up. He was going to mock his ex's death from dusk to dawn and nothing was going to stop him.

Though, this is nothing new. He always made fun of Schlatt and his death, but today, Quackity was going to make the most insensitive jokes about his passing. If he hadn't made it clear, Quackity hated Schlatt to the tenth degree. He had so many stories of every time the ram hybrid had abused him, and every time he had been involuntarily bent over the desk to be fucked senseless.

But, again, this was his day. First thing he'd do today would be to go to Schlatt's grave and spit on it. Maybe even deface it more than it already had been.

He snickered at the thought, opening the drawers pulling out the hair brush, and multiple makeup brushes.

Smiling at the mirror, he pulled his beanie off, watching his hair puff out all around his head. Consequences of wearing a hat to bed, he guessed.

Groaning, Quackity pulled the brush through his hair, the comb slightly tugging on his tangled strands. Every time the brush ran through his hair, it kind of hurt. Again, another consequence of wearing a beanie to bed.

Eventually, he fixed his hair, pulling his LAFD beanie back on. Grabbing one of the many makeup brushes, and grabbing one of the contour pallets. He rubbed the makeup brush in the powder, leaning closer to his mirror. Quackity rubbed the brush on his face, trying to do the makeup semi perfectly.

Mid-way through the application, he felt cold air run down the sides of his body. His stroking stopped, his hand faltering. Quackity looked around, blinking. He was still alone, though it felt like someone was staring at him. The pale man stood up, walking over to the window. It wasn't open, nor was anyone looking up at him through it.

He pulled on the curtains, making sure they were fully closed, before going back to his desk. Quackity stopped when he saw the brushes arranged into his name. Odd. He looked around more, quickly searching around his room, making sure that no one was here.

No one under the bed, no one in his bathroom. No one in his closet, and no one outside.

Sitting back down, he bit his lip. Quackity brushed the makeup on his face, shivering when the cold sensation came back. It felt like two hands running down his sides, before stopping at his hips every time. He got up, getting a blanket, trying to see if that would help, but to no avail, as the feeling continued through said blanket.

Quackity thought that, maybe, he needed to put a sweater on. Maybe that would help. So, the green Dream hoodie was pulled over his dark blue Adidas jacket. He ruffled his dark hair, going back to slowly applying his makeup.

Suddenly, he jumped, a face appearing next to his own. Quackity quickly turned, attempting to slap whoever decided to pop up, but to find no one there. Glancing back at his mirror, the face was becoming more clear. The features became more and more familiar to him as the face became more clear. Sharp jawline, light stubble, muttonchops, brown hair, and ram horns came into sight and Quackity immediately knew he was screwed.

Schlatt stared at the mirror, a unreadable look on his face. The dark haired man felt his confidence hit rock bottom as soon as the blank stare reached him.

"Alex..."

His voice was rough and gravely, and definitely a lower octave. Again, a chill ran down Quackity's spine, the freezing sensation moving to his thighs, before travelling up his pelvis. Fear consumed the younger's body, anxiety pumping through his veins.

This must be an illusion. A dream.

"Alex."

Warm air hit his neck, a shocking contrast to the cold wind that was running itself up and down his body. The hoodie he had put on had been pulled off, the zipper on his jacket being pulled down as well. Quackity quickly reached for the zipper, stopped when a force gripped his wrist.

He was pulled up on his feet, watching as the things on his desk were pushed off, his head being violently pulled up by what felt like a calloused hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the silhouette and blurry outline of Schlatt begin to appear.

His breath became uneven, any confidence from earlier finally dissipating. He could already hear what Schlatt was going to say to him. 'Talkin' shit is only going to get you so far, Quackity' and 'Tough talk for someone who's crying at my feet'. All things he had heard before, but the sting was always different.

But, what Quackity wasn't expecting was the suddenness of being pinned to his desk, transparent lips pressing against his own. His dark eyes widened, his back pressed against the mahogany wood. HIs body was plunged into coldness, the ghost in front of him moving his hands up and down Quackity's sides.

"Alex, you're not acting all high and mighty here. What happened to all the confidence?"

Schlatt snarled, unzipping the blue jacket that covered Quackity's upper body.

"I-It's still here, I just don't feel like using it right now. Very limited supplies right now, ya know?"

The younger man was clearly trying to make jokes, and Schlatt was very clearly not having it. Instead of laughing like he was supposed to, the hybrid just scowled.

"Alex, if you don't follow my orders, I'll make sure you lose a canon life."

That was enough to get Quackity to listen. After following Schlatt's very specific, and weird, requests to a T, the dark haired man was suddenly flipped on his stomach. His pants dropped, along with his boxers, and he immediately knew what was coming. How the ram ghost hybrid drunk of a former president would fuck him was a mystery that Quackity wasn't sure he wanted to help solve, but it seemed like he had no choice.

"You act like I haven't heard everything you've said about me, slut. You act like I can't hear you when you slander me."

Schlatt growled, sending another wave of chills down Quackity's spine.

"You act like didn't beg for me to rail you ever other night. You act like you didn't throw yourself at me _every day_."

He snarled, grabbing Quackity's hair, almost ripping it out of his scalp. The dark haired boy yelped, his face getting pressed against the glass of the mirror. Schlatt leaned closer to his ear, whispering, his voice raspy.

"Now, I want you to see how desperate you look every time I _fucked you_."

Quackity stared at the mirror he was currently pressed against, taking into account how he looked. Makeup smudged, hair messy, swollen lips. His eyelids were slightly droopy, and his face was slightly pink. Was this how he always looked when he was with Schlatt? He always looked like an absolute mess every time? He continued to stare at himself, not noticing the man who currently had him pinned down had fully materialized and was running his transparent fingers up and down the younger man's back.

Quackity jumped, feeling a finger slowly enter him. Suddenly, he didn't want to stare at the mirror anymore. His breathing quickly became uneven as another hand came up, turning his head towards the mirror again, forcing him to look at himself.

"Look at yourself Alex. Keep looking at yourself. Don't look away."

The dark haired man shivered. He didn't miss this. He never liked being told what to do. But, there wasn't much he could focus on as his knees buckled out from under him when the cold digit found his prostate. Quackity squirmed, a rough moan escaping his lips.

Schlatt smirked, fingering that spot again, getting the man under him to squirm even more. The younger man stared at himself in the mirror, taking into account how he looked. Hair now plastered to his face, beads of sweat rolling down his face. His face was getting progressively more and more red, and he was panting like a dog.

He propped himself up on his elbows, trying to calm down, trying to imagine the man behind him was someone, anyone else. He grasped at the concept that it was Karl, or Sapnap. Hell, he'd even take BBH over Schlatt any day. 

He smiled, settling for Karl. God, he could see it so clearly. His brown hair messily tossed over his face, his large sleeves pulled up, his face red. Quackity lurched forward, feeling another finger enter him. He bit his lip, keeping his eyes closed, keeping the fantasy in his mind. He could hear his friend's heaving panting, he could see him covering his mouth as Quackity moaned. 

Quackity felt his hair get roughly pulled, groaning out.

"F-Fuck, Karl, harder~"

His eyes snapped open, realizing his mistake. He turned staring at Schlatt, who's face had gone deadpan. 

"Wait, no. Schlatt, I didn't-"

He didn't have time to process it, only feeling a sharp sting on his face, before feeling a warm line run down his face. 

"Quiet, whore."

His face was pulled up, as his back was shoved against the mirror. Cold hands pulled warm thighs away from each other, before throwing them up to invisible shoulders. Quackity desperately attempted to cover himself as he watched the ghost in front of him strip. 

"W-Wait, Schlatt, don't, I-"

"You were getting around while I was gone, huh? Karl, huh? That's who you fantasize about?"

A cruel laugh escaped the spirit's lips.

"Pathetic. Really on character for you."

Quackity gulped, staring at Schlatt in silence as he took his boxers off. Still packing, even as a ghost. The dark haired man's legs were lifted up, screaming as Schlatt thrusted into him. He covered his mouth, tears quickly streaming down his face, as he gripped onto the desk, trying to hold onto something.

His mouth was open, though no sound came out. The sensation was warm, unlike the rest of Schlatt's body. Quackity's head tilted back, a choked moan escaping his lips. A cold hand locked itself on his left leg, the other going to his chest. The thrusting continued, with Quackity begging for him to go slower, getting no response. Schlatt wouldn't even moan, he was stonefaced, and he only quietly groaned and grunted once or twice. The dark haired man felt himself tighten, the warm pool in his stomach going down further. He arched his back, the hand on his thigh gripping down harder. He screamed in pleasure again, white ropes covering his chest.

Footsteps ran up the stairs, the shadow of someone walking up appearing under the door.

"Alex? You doing good, dude?"

"Y-Yeah! I'm good, Karl! I just... fell out of bed."

"Oh. Okay! Do you need me to come in?"

Quackity pursed his lips, thinking about it. He could get Schlatt anyway from him by inviting Karl in, but he'd most likely humiliate himself, or he could continue to let Schlatt violate him. He didn't have long to think, though, as the hybrid man began to thrust again, leaving Quackity to sob out pathetic moans. 

"Alex?"

"YES! Oh, YES, _PLEASE_ COME IN, KARl."

Schlatt immediately stopped, a scowl appearing on his face. 

"You whore. I'll have to finish later."

He disappeared, Quackity watching as Karl walked in. His face dropped, staring at the dark haired man who looked absolutely fucked. His hair plastered to his forehead, red blush covering the majority of his ears and face, sweat rolling down his naked body. Hand prints imprinted on his thighs, and his face was bleeding. His chest moved up and down, as he tried to control his breathing. 

"Oh... what the honk happened to you, Alex?"

Karl ran over helping the slightly shorter man up. He helped him to the bathroom, getting a bath ready for him.

"It's... a long story, Karl."


End file.
